This one goes to my most dearest friend Ram’s Dad,
Major CK Belliappa, who was a fabulous father, a proud grandfather, a loving husband, a brave and spirited Army officer, and a staunch Kodava who played many more significant roles during his unpretentious and humble life. But above all of that, he was an absolutely amazing and remarkable human being whom we all adored and loved so unconditionally.
I have known Uncle for over two decades now and during my own varied experiences of life from college days followed by being a professonal working and living in India and abroad, my frequent travel, my marriage and more recently attaining fatherhood, my meetings with Uncle have always been staggered with breaks in between that lasted from a few days to weeks to even few years. But whenever we met, it was great and I always had the good chance to spend a few wonderful moments talking to him and catching up on things that really mattered, life and us.
I fondly remember Uncle as a very attentive listener and that’s always very reassuring, especially if you are an engaging story teller like me. I remember discussing so many things with him during the numerous conversations we’ve had that revolve around wide-ranging subjects like computers, books, travels, family or just about anything and he would always show so much interest and intent to listen and with his own inimitable mark of acknowledgement by a simple ‘Oh Yeah!’, he would reinforce the essence of making the whole discussion so much more worthwhile.
Growing up in the late 80s, when Ram and I first met in junior college and when Uncle was working with Gati, I would frequent his home in Gunrock enclave at least three or four times a week. On most occasions, I would end up spending a lot of time at his place just hang out there doing stuff like eating, drinking, watching movies on rental videos or generally idling away time doing nothing and it was always refreshing to meet Uncle who would be so unmindful of the unruly escapades of us juveniles. He would always indulge us in stories of his own little adventures at the office or the experiences of his tenure in the Army. He always had this comic banter and a bunch of really funny jokes to tell and make us all laugh. One of my favourites is the one when somebody asked him over a drink as to how did Ram happen?, and he held up his glass firmly and exclaimed, "It was fairly simple; Rum, Ram and Raam!".
In the last few years since his retirement from professional work, Uncle had moved back to his old ancestral home in Coorg located in the village of Bittangala in Kodava. Set in a pristine valley filled with an abundance of flora, fauna, fresh air and with a backdrop of coffee plantations on a hillock on one side, a barnyard with buffaloes behind and an open cultivable field on to the front. The home itself has a very modest look with basic living amenities, and with limited connectivity, frequent power cuts and arduous pathways filled with mud, rocks and slush that could give a grueling road test to any modern day SUV. In spite of its humble existence, the most striking feature of this family house is its strong history and the inimitable ‘Kodava’ character emanating from its ancient rustic architecture. And I think it was this magnetic sense of character and history that pulled Uncle back to his family home.
When most contemporary retirees are moving into big cities to embrace the luxuries of a modern lifestyle, it was very inspiring of Uncle to return to his ancestral home and bask in its glory of yester years and then add some of his own to continue its legacy. On many occasions, one could find Uncle locked up in his room which was more like a study where he would be busy browsing through his mail, scattered papers and old books.
I managed to fish out this picture of Uncle that I took in his study. Check out the collection of his books and caps in the background with an old picture of Swami Vivekananda on the wall.
There’s this other picture of him and me when we were strolling through his coffee plantation. These pictures were taken just about a year ago sometime in early to mid 2009 when he was still very strong, healthy and actively overseeing the work at his estate which he cared for so much.
I have made several trips to this ancestral home in the past few years and it has always been a memorable holiday to be able to enjoy the scenic wilderness and serene beauty of the landscape that surrounds this place. A couple of years ago, during one of my trips to Coorg, I happen to present my copy of this book called ‘
The Elephant, The Tiger and the Cell Phone’ a contemporary collection of essays on India by Shashi Tharoor and Uncle was pleasantly taken aback by this small gesture of mine. I further went on to narrate a couple of the essays in the book and it was so heartening to see him listen with so much of undivided attention, almost like a young enthusiastic school boy.
The last time I spent a few minutes talking to Uncle was on that gloomy and rainy weekday afternoon about four weeks ago in the middle of June when I had the privilege to give the family a ride in my car from St.John's hospital to his cousin's home on MG road in Bangalore. Monsoon had just set in and we had a very heavy downpour that evening and as I steered the car through the rain drenched rush hour traffic, I clearly remember catching occasional glimpses of him in the rear view mirror as he dozed off like a little baby in the rear seat, flanked by Ram on one side and his Mother on the other. Once we got to the apartment building and into the basement parking lot, he refused to get off the car and walk to the elevator as he wanted to rest more and stay in the car. However, after a bit of sustained persuasion by Ram’s cousin, he finally gave in and we walked him to the elevator and into the apartment living room.
Once settled in the living room, while we all spent the next hour or more together chatting up over a beer, Uncle was comfortably resting on the sofa and was kind of oblivious of our presence. It had been more than two months now as Uncle’s health had slowly started deteriorating since he had to make these frequent visits to the hospital to get his chemo dialysis done under medical supervision. I remember his cousin telling me that Uncle had become very stubborn with a childlike psychosis gripping him in those last two months, since his treatment and hospital visits had intensified.
As the famous Greek historian Herodotus said,
‘Death is a delightful hiding place for weary men’. It was evident that Uncle was tired and has hence passed on from all the suffering from these last few months. With his demise, I will always miss him, specially when I visit Ram's home in Coorg. I will miss talking to him and telling him stories and listening to some of his funny jokes and his laughter.
In closing, I sincerely wish and pray that God gives Ram, his Mother and the rest of his family all the strength to cope with this irreplaceble loss, and may Uncle's soul is rest in peace and tranquility in a place close to his heart, like his favourite ancestral home named ‘
Channira". Amen!
